The Return
by Red Haired Vixen
Summary: Love, losing, and finding a way
1. Possiblities

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.  
  
Chapter 1: Possibilities Ron trudged up the stairs at towards the apartment that he shared with Harry. His robes hung loosely on him as he opened the door and made his into the sitting room. Harry sat quietly scratching something on a roll parchment. Ron through his broom to the floor and sat down with a scowl.  
  
"I can't take it, mate," Ron said in an anxious manner rubbing his hands together.  
  
Harry looked up at him and studied the dirt covering his face before saying anything, "Another tough day of training?"  
  
"Yeah, I just don't know how I'm going to make it through. I always knew it would be tough to be on a Quidditch team but after we won the Cup those last three years I thought I finally had it made, but playing for the Cannons is hell on a broom," Ron said getting up and moving into the small kitchen and fixing his self a cup of tea. He stared at the teabag for a few minutes before dunking into the cup and coming to sit back down.  
  
"I know but it's what you want to be doing. I would have given anything to play on a Quidditch team, not that being an Auror is easy," Harry said to Ron who looked calmer and more relaxed now that he was home.  
  
"But you passed on the first try! Face it Harry, you're special."  
  
"I'm not special," Harry mused looking back down at his piece of parchment, "I've just been through a lot, anyone who'd faced Voldemort five times and defeated him when he was only seventeen when the most qualified Aurors couldn't take him down would have done the same."  
  
"But no one else could do that Harry! Don't you understand? That's why you're special! You've been through everything and come out alive. And I know that Hermione and I were there a lot of the time, helping you out and fighting right alongside you, but normal people just can't do what you can, you're the best Auror the Ministry has and you're only 21! Even Hermione says so," Ron said in an exasperated tone.  
  
"I know," Harry sighed, "but you're amazing too and you'll get through the training I promise you. You'll be the best keeper in the league someday. If all else fails you could be an Auror, take some of the pressure off me. Being the best Auror at the age of 21 isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes I wish I could just pack up and go live in Romania, study dragons like Charlie that would at least be interesting more often. It's like I'm this huge celebrity that everyone expects everything of all the time and I just can't do it."  
  
"I know, mate, I know," Ron replied. "But it will get better, I'm sure, and if all else fails you could always go to teach for Dumbledore, ever since Hermione went to take over for Professor McGonagall she's been begging us to come teach. I don't know what I could do but I'm sure that the Defense for Dark Arts position is open, and you're the most qualified person there is."  
  
Harry sat thoughtfully looking at Ron and then looked down at his parchment. Then in one swift move, he got and made his way across the apartment and into his bedroom. As the door to the Harry's room closed, Ron sighed and went back into the kitchen to fix himself dinner. 


	2. Stuff Happens

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.  
  
Chapter 2: Stuff Happens Ron awoke slowly as the sun somehow found it's way through curtains waking him much earlier than he would have liked. He forced himself out of bed into a standing position, grabbed the towel at the foot of his bed, and made his way down the hall to the bathroom.  
  
He returned to his room twenty minutes later, showered and shaved, his wet hair dripping into his eyes. He rummaged around in the pile of clothes on his floor, pulling on his clean pair of training robes and winding his way out of his room into the kitchen.  
  
When he entered the kitchen, he found Harry sitting at the small table they'd somehow crammed into their tiny kitchen having an early cup of tea. Harry was dressed snappily for his work at the Ministry and he surveyed Ron's rumpled appearance with a look of bemused interest.  
  
"Doesn't Wood like all of his player's robes to be finely pressed?" Harry said to Ron who poured himself a cup of tea and sat down across from Harry.  
  
"Yes, well Wood can stick it where the sun don't shine for all I care. I'm not going to clean robes that are just going to get dirty again the minute I step out onto the field. Wood's a great coach but I can't stand him sometimes. You'd think losing one match was the end of the world with the way he talks about it. Was he this bad at Hogwarts?" Ron asked with an incredulous look on his face.  
  
"Yes, we've just blocked it out, I suppose. He was a great player I'll give you that. He's going to make you guys good this year. I still can't believe what happened to him though, is he really off his broom for two years?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron replied sadly, "I think that's the only reason they picked me up. I swear Wood's the best keeper the Cannons ever saw. He has great talent and a real knowledge of the game. I wouldn't want to be on the opposing team his first game back."  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Harry said looking down at his watch, "well, mate, I'm off, we've got three raids today and I'm going to be late if I don't get a move on."  
  
Ron smiled vaguely at the idea of Harry ever being late. He watched as Harry gathered up his things and Apparated to the Ministry of Magic. He finished his cup of tea and washed up before grabbing his broom and leaving the apartment.  
  
He always went to work the muggle way if he could. Harry and he lived only ten blocks from the premises of the Cannons stadium and it usually woke him up walking to the stadium in the morning.  
  
Ten minutes later, he arrived at the stadium, disguised as an old warehouse and slipped quietly inside. He made his way to the changing rooms and talked with the other players as they waited for Wood to arrive.  
  
Alicia Spinnet, the chaser he'd played with at Hogwarts pulled on her robes and whispered to Ron that Wood was on his way. Alicia and Wood had been dating for close to two years; ever since she'd left Hogwarts and ended up playing Chaser for the Cannons. It'd been almost a homecoming when Ron had joined the team also.  
  
"Alright team, we've got a hard practice today but it'll be worth it when we play Puddlemere. I know this season hasn't been the best but we can still salvage it. I've made some plans for practice so if you'd all just gather around," Wood said and flicked his wand artfully at the blackboard causing small Xs and Os to appear and move around the board, just as he used to do at Hogwarts.  
  
Ron watched intently at the little characters but after a while, his mind drifted off and he saw Arthur Blake, one of the Beaters, dozing off quietly in the corner. Ron actually chortled aloud and had to cover it up with a coughing fit.  
  
Twenty minutes later, they trudged out onto the field and began practice. Ron was in his form today, he couldn't miss. Halfway through practice he pulled off the perfect sloth roll grip and caught the Quaffle with one free hand.  
  
Near the end of practice, Ron began he tire. His muscles ached from all the violent stretching he'd done to grab the Quaffle and he was beginning to lose focus. He was waiting at the hoops for the action to come his way when he briefly gazed off so that when he came to Alicia was spinning down the field toward him. He perked up just in time but he was a little too quick. Alicia soared past him, nicking the end of his broom and throwing him off it.  
  
He woke up five minutes later with a searing pain in his left knee. He opened his eyes slowly to see Wood standing over him looking intensely grave. Hoping desperately that the pain was a figment of his imagination he tried to get up but a shock of pain leaped down his leg as he fell back to the ground. The pain was so much that he passed out once again with his eyes swimming.  
  
The next day he awoke to find his mother, father, Ginny, and Harry crowded around him. His vision slowly reverted to normal and he realized that he was in St. Mungo's. Mrs. Weasley stared nervously at him with tears in her eyes. Ron smiled weakly up at his mum.  
  
"Hi mum, what happened? I blacked out for a bit back there," Ron asked his mum as Harry turned away from the bed.  
  
"Oh Ron," Mrs. Weasley whimpered, "you...you...you wrenched your knee pretty badly." "When can I play again?" Ron asked in a voice slightly higher than his normal.  
  
"Well..." his father said, "they're not really sure. With Wood it was two years but they think it might not be that long, it doesn't look as bad as his."  
  
"Two years?" Ron yelled causing everyone to jump a little.  
  
"Dear, it'll be okay..." Mrs. Weasley pleaded but Ron wasn't listening. His gaze focused out and he stared out the window towards the sunlight that was once again keeping him up. 


	3. A New Life

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.  
  
Chapter 3: A New Life Ron stumbled through his and Harry's small apartment for the fourteenth time that day, arranging the neatly packed boxes with "Hogwarts" scrawled lazily across them. After his accident, he'd known that Quidditch was out of the picture for now, maybe forever. Therefore, when Harry had told him that Madam Hooch was taking the year off, possibly more, to officiate for the English Quidditch league he'd jumped at the job offer.  
  
When Ron had suggested to Harry that he work at Hogwarts he'd been half kidding but Harry had later told him that once Ron had gotten injured he knew that it was time to leave his job and go somewhere else, anywhere else, and Ron's suggestion had been just what he needed.  
  
Now as Ron stared at his bare apartment he wasn't so sure he'd made the right decision. Hogwarts was such a different life, a new life, one he didn't know if he was ready for. He was however ecstatic that he was going to see Hermione again. Since he'd left school, he'd seen her far less than he'd wanted.  
  
The first year when she'd been living in London had been wonderful, they were the troublesome trio like always, but then she'd gone away for two years, briefly to America and then to live with Krum for a while. When her life with Krum fell apart at the end of two years Dumbledore has offered her the job at Hogwarts she'd been on the first train. The two years since then she'd been home rarely, visiting her parents mostly, she'd stayed with them for one memorable weekend the first summer after her Hogwarts job began but that was it and Ron missed her dearly, realizing it now more than ever when he was going to see her in mere hours.  
  
He made one final sweep of the apartment, left a note with the movers, who were coming later to transport most of the luggage to the school and hurried off to meet Harry at the train station.  
  
Hours later, he found himself next to Harry in the darkness outside Hogsmeade station. Hermione would have met them at the station but they hadn't told her they were even coming to teach yet. When Harry and Ron had accepted their positions, they'd made Dumbledore promise to keep from Hermione that they were coming. They wanted to surprise her.  
  
They made their way up towards Hogwarts in the beautiful carriages that had always taken when they were students. When they reached the castle Ron spent a full five minutes staring at the old castle, taking in everything he'd forgotten about his old home.  
  
Ron moved only when Harry had clapped him on the back and prodded him forward into the majestic front hall. Dumbledore stood there quietly waiting for them. He smiled when they entered.  
  
"Ah, boys you've made it. Quite good. I'll just show you to your quarters and then point you in the direction to Hermione's room. It's been hard keeping this from her, you know," Dumbledore's familiar voice rumbled in their ears.  
  
"Thanks so much for that," Ron said, "we just wanted to surprise her is all."  
  
Dumbledore simply nodded and led them up the stairs to the fifth floor to a part of the castle they'd visited rarely in their tenure as students. He gestured them towards a door, which swung open with a slight touch from his fingertips revealing a large office. Through the far door Ron could see a small common room and with a small kitchen. Off to each side of the office there was a door, which Ron assumed were their bedrooms.  
  
Once he'd taken it, all in he turned in unison with Harry to thank Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore this is wonderful, now where is Hermione's office?" Ron asked.  
  
"Right there," Dumbledore said turning around and pointing at the door opposite Harry and Ron's before spinning on his heel and leaving, saying over his shoulder "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Ron stared at Harry smiled. They both moved in unison quickly to the door opposite them and knocked lightly. The door swung open a minute later to reveal a much different Hermione.  
  
She screamed when she saw them, wrapping them in a huge hug. She looked much different from before. Her long bushy hair was now smoother, sleeker. Her robes hung nicely and clung to parts of her Ron didn't know where there. She hugged them one more time, as if they weren't real, before letting go and ushering them into her room.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she practically yelled she was so happy, "I didn't know you were coming to visit?!"  
  
"Well...we're not," Harry replied, "We're umm...Ron?"  
  
"What Ron? What is it?" Hermione piped up before he could get a word out.  
  
"Meet the new Flying Instructor and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor," he said sheepishly staring right at her. 


	4. Revelations

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.  
  
Author's Note: I'm switching POVs here to Hermione's. I think it's going the switch back and forth the rest of the story every couple of chapters but I'm not sure. Also I love feedback on my writing, so if I'm writing really bad jokes tell me!  
  
Chapter 4: Revelations Hermione stared at Ron with shock on her face. She couldn't believe it. A million thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to decide whether she was angry or happy or both. Ron looked at her and she blushed and stuttered out a response.  
  
"You're kidding!" she yelled a little louder than she's expected.  
  
"Nope." Ron said grinning at her in the way he always used to. A smile played across her lips as she realized how much she'd missed them, missed Ron, these past years. He'd been her best friend but she couldn't remember the last time they'd been together. The last time Harry had visited Ron had been playing a game against the Tornadoes.  
  
"Well, I'm just...I don't know what to say. This is great. Oh Harry you're perfect for this job, I mean, well you know what I mean," Hermione squealed as Harry turned bright red, "and Ron, when Harry told me about your knee, I was so sad, you're an amazing player, when Madam Hooch told me she was leaving on sabbatical I almost wrote you begging you to come, oh I'm so happy!"  
  
"I'm glad, and I'm happy to be here. I plan on giving those little runts hell," Ron joked.  
  
"Yeah, if they thought Snape was bad they're going to hate me," Harry said in a fit of laughter.  
  
"Oh you two," Hermione remarked in exasperation, "sit down already will you."  
  
Harry and Ron sat down on the only available space, two towers of books in front of her desk. Hermione sighed at them but held back from outwardly criticizing them. She hurried over, pushed them off the books, moved them to a nearby shelf with a flick of her wand, and with another created three chairs out of nowhere. They seated themselves down quietly whole Hermione gave both boys a good look.  
  
Harry looked the same as ever. His hair was still dark and unruly, patches stuck up wherever they pleased. He was perhaps a bit heavier than he'd been at Hogwarts but he hadn't lost his lean appearance. If anything, he was finally consistently healthy after living with his aunt and uncle for so many years. She was glad he's taken the position; Hermione remembered countless conversations with Mrs. Weasley and Ginny who worried about Harry being an Auror. At least here, he couldn't get himself into any serious trouble.  
  
Ron was another story entirely. She hadn't seen him in nearly two years. He was, if this was even possible, taller than before. His long legs stretched out several inches past Harry's, she guessed he was about 6'5" now. Ron's hair was longer and lighter. The bright shocking Weasley red-orange had faded beautifully. It stuck out in all directions as if Harry's, and was rumpled after the long day. Something in here, stomach flipped over. She didn't know why she'd missed him so much. She wanted to leap up and hug him forever.  
  
"So where are your rooms?" Hermions asked, throwing herself back into the present.  
  
"There." Ron said pointing to the room opposite hers. Her brain did a double take as she realized how close they were going to be every night. Stop it, she told herself firmly.  
  
She talked with the boys for at least another hour but she wasn't sure how long it really was, her mind was elsewhere. Finally, Ron and Harry admitted that they were tired and still had to unpack. Five minutes later, she kissed each boy on the cheek and retired to her room. She made herself a cup of tea but it didn't help. Every emotion was pinging around inside her like a badly played game of tennis.  
  
She got in bed and tried to fall asleep. She couldn't. She grabbed at her book, which tended to calm her down but after ten minutes, she's read the same passage about Vanishing Charms six times she sighed, put the book down, and turned off her light. Two hours later, she drifted off to sleep. 


	5. Wake Up Call

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.  
  
Author's Note: Since you seem to want longer chapters this story is going to have a switch of POV in the middle. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 5: Wake Up Call The next morning Hermione's the sun shined brightly into her window slamming her back into reality. Her clock read seven but that couldn't be possible. She felt like she'd only slept an hour that night, her eyes were heavy and her head ached slightly. Then, last night's event slid back into her mind. She smiled when she remembered who was at this moment no more than twenty yards from her, probably still asleep.  
  
She eased her way out of bed and over to the small desk where her mirror was. Her hair had decided to go its own way, small tufts stood up in the middle of her head. She laughed quietly to herself, grabbed her towel, and walked into the bathroom.  
  
She emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, still wet, and changed into her clothes. Her hair, a perennial problem fixed only lately with a spell she'd picked up in Romania, soaked into her robes. She sighed, and muttered Sleekus Coiffus. Her hair dried immediately and turned from big and bushy into smooth and sleek, flowing nicely over her shoulders and down her back.  
  
She surveyed her appearance in the mirror once more. The robes she wore now where quite different from the ones of her school years. She was taller now and more defined. The curve of her hips, which she'd been afraid to show at school, was more pronounced in this set of robes. She'd gotten them from her boyfriend Ryan, who she'd met in America. The day she left America, he'd smiled at her and given her these. "You're too beautiful to be always wearing those old things," he'd breathed into her ear just before she'd Apparated away from him and that life.  
  
When she'd gotten home, she'd taken out the robes and laid them in her drawer, feeling much too modest to ever where them. Then she'd found Krum and he made her see that she really was beautiful. The first time she wore the robes for him he pulled her close and didn't let her go that whole night. The night they broke up she'd put them away and hadn't touched them until this year.  
  
Something in her stomach threw her out of place. She hadn't worn these robes since her days with Krum, the only reason she had them on yesterday was because her dirty clothes had piled up and she didn't feel like washing them. But today she'd moved straight for her drawer, past all the clean, perfectly respectable clothes and pulled out these.  
  
She stood at her desk trying to figure out why she wanted to look good, why she even cared that she was wearing these when a thought popped into her head. Ron's warm face flowed through her mind and she drew in a quick intake of breath. Ron, she thought as her mind finally clicked into place.  
  
* Ron snapped awake, sat up, and groaned. He stared at his clock only to realize it wasn't ten or eleven as he hoped, it was six forty-five. He lay back down and pulled the blanket over himself again. He gazed at the ceiling for a few minutes, but he didn't feel tired at all.  
  
His mind was fuzzy. The last time he'd woken up this early was two years ago when Wood had demanded they have an eight in the morning practice because they'd lost 200-20. But unlike that morning when his brain had stayed fuzzy, the fuzziness began to drift off as her remembered where he was.  
  
He was at Hogwarts. Across the hall through his open door, he could hear Harry snoring lightly. Resigning the idea that he was going to get any more sleep he got out of bed and threw on a shirt.  
  
He made his way through the office into the small kitchen. Pulling open the fridge, he grabbed the milk and began fixing himself a pot of tea. Not wanting to wake up Harry, he closed the door. Five minutes later, he was sitting on the small couch sipping a piping hot cup of tea and reading the latest Quidditch Weekly.  
  
He flipped mindlessly along, not bothering to pay attention. Something caught his interest on page 26 though. A flash of orange had jumped off the page and now he saw what. There was a huge feature of the new Cannons Keeper, Avery Thomas—his replacement. And there in a small inset was a picture of Ron in the hospital, pitifully trying to cover his face.  
  
As he stared at magazine, he winced a little, okay, a lot. He missed Quidditch. Yes, it was rough, and people did get hurt often (obviously), but it was one of the few things he was good at. He didn't think he'd be good at this job. He could teach flying easy enough, but being a referee was hard. When Harry had proposed this job to him, he'd accepted. What he hadn't known was that he had to take a referee accreditation course. The last month back in London had been spent in classrooms, on Quidditch pitches, and in front of a book.  
  
He gulped down the rest of his tea, returned the milk to the fridge, and went back to his room. His bed looked so warm and comforting, he decided he wanted to sleep some more. Fully intending to sleep the afternoon away, Ron eased himself back into bed but two minutes he was sitting bolt upright unable to move. Through the wall, he could hear a shower running and someone singing softly to themselves.  
  
Ron jumped out of bed and realized that he was listening to Hermione shower. A million things rushed through his head at once. He didn't know what to do. He felt wrong listening but at the same time, he wanted too. He stood for what must have been ten minutes trying to figure out what to do, lingering in his room.  
  
Finally, he made his way out of the room and sat firmly down at his desk, like a little puppy. He wasn't going to move until she was done. Twenty minutes later a knock came at his door.  
  
Forgetting his rather insufficient attire, he strode over to the door and opened it with a flourish. Hermione gawked up at him and smiled. He looked down at his clothes and then at his hers. "Come in," he croaked. She nodded and walked past him into his room. 


	6. The First Step

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry it took longer than usual but it was worth it.  
  
Chapter 6: The First Step Hermione smiled and laughed as Ron stood in the doorway, exposing a little more than she'd expected but none too much. As he led her into the room, she brushed his skin and felt a small jolt of happiness down her spine.  
  
She made her way into the office and stared at the floor, not sure, if she could look up at him. Her eyes followed his feet slowly past her, into the small kitchen. She heard him fumbling with something and a few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea.  
  
"Here," Ron said handing it to her. His fingers briefly brushed hers. She looked up at him. His cool blue eyes were staring at her with a look she'd never seen before. Every part of her jumped.  
  
"Thanks," she gasped, taking the cup slowly so that they touched for as long as possible. He smiled at her and crossed his arms across his chest. Standing there with his arms folded and in his boxers, he looked absolutely ridiculous; she let out a small giggle.  
  
"I'll just—go shower and change," he stuttered, "You can wait in the sitting room, it's just through there, with the kitchen...I'll be back soon."  
  
She nodded and watched him walk slowly away, pulling his shirt off with one hand and closing the door with the other. Tension rolled off her shoulders the moment the door had closed. Holding her cup carefully she made her way across the office and into the small sitting room.  
  
There was a couch facing a television, two plush chairs, and a small coffee table littered with books and magazines. She walked over to the couch, put down her teacup on the only available open space, and began arranging the magazines into some order.  
  
An untidy pile of Dark Arts Defense teetered on one corner of the table, threatening to fall off. Hermione chuckled to herself and gathered up the rest, placing them in the center of the table. She quickly threw a few old copies of Wizard Weekly into a neat pile.  
  
On the edge of the table, lying open, was the latest copy of Quidditch Weekly. She picked it up and began reading, her eyes skimming the page. Finding nothing of interest, she turned to the next page, took in a quick breath, and sat down on the couch.  
  
Her eyes flicked from the grinning photograph of Oliver Wood and Avery Thomas to the small inset near the bottom right hand corner. In it was a picture of Ron in his hospital bed, his face covered by not only his but Harry's and Ginny's hands. Her heart leaped up into to her throat. Pain sloshed over her. She felt incredibly guilty.  
  
The day of Ron's accident she'd gotten rushed Owls from Ginny, Harry, and Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley was the kindest of the three; she'd asked politely how Hermione had been doing and then related the events of the Ron's accident.  
  
Ginny hadn't prodded she'd merely expressed that she wished Hermione would come and see Ron because he was so upset. Harry had nearly demanded that she come. He knew that she was busy, that things were happening, and that she had plenty to do but "couldn't she spare half a day to come see her best friend in the hospital?"  
  
She hadn't gone. It had been so long, and even then, she'd known how much Ron meant. She just well, she knew she'd fucked it up. All those years ago she'd known how he'd felt and well it had scared her. That's why she'd gone as far away as possible. That's why—  
  
"Hermione?" Ron said from behind her causing her to jerk around, the magazine clutched in her hands. He looked at her with a happy look on his face and then glanced at what was in her hands. His face dropped, just for a second, and then he was back to himself. He walked over to her and smiled broadly trying to hide his pain.  
  
She knew better.  
  
"Ron...do you?" she muttered.  
  
"Do I what?"  
  
"Do you miss it? I mean, do you? I mean, are you okay?" she said, all in one breath.  
  
He looked up into her face. His eyes were tired, she could see them straining against something. His lips moved to say something and stopped. He ran his hand through his still wet hair. He tried again to get the words. He sat down on the couch, sinking into the cushion. Hermione sat down next to him, sliding slightly into the indent he'd made in the fabric. His hands fidgeted in his lap. Hermione stared hard into his stark face, searching for something behind everything. She knew he had a hard time with emotions, but holding it in wasn't going to help. He sighed, and finally with great force, eked out the word, "Yes."  
  
It wasn't cold or harsh. It was honest and pained. His shoulders shook once before he regained his normal solid composure. He didn't look up for a few seconds; she knew he was composing himself, putting the hard veneer back. She wouldn't let him.  
  
Slowly she took one finger and lightly lifted his chin so that he was looking into her eyes.  
  
"Ron, it's okay," she said. He didn't move. He stared straight at her. She felt his body go rigid under touch, her own did five internal cartwheels, but she held it all down.  
  
Then she opened her arms and he feel into them, his face crashing into her soft robes. He didn't cry. She'd hoped he would, but she knew him too well. He shivered and pulled her closer. She grasped his hand and didn't move an inch.  
  
* "Hermione? Ron?" Harry said peering in from the office. Hermione jumped up, Ron stumbled trying to get up and fell back to the couch. His knee twisted slightly under the weight and he cried out in pain.  
  
Hermione whipped around in an instant, staring into his eyes. He was gripping the arm of the chair with one hand, the other was hovering an inch above his knee. Hermione acted fast. Out of nowhere, she produced an icepack, which she placed on his knee.  
  
She knew she couldn't move him. Harry was edging nervously around her. Knowing that she had to stay with Ron she turned to Harry, still in his pajamas, obviously just out of bed.  
  
"Go get Madam Pomfrey and bring her here. We can't move Ron; his knee is too fragile. Tell her what happened and get here as quick as you can! I'll do what I can, I studied some medicine in America," Hermione said urgently to Harry.  
  
Harry nodded and ran from the room. Hermione heard his feet run down the hall and up the stairs. She turned back to Ron; she could see the pained look on his face. Wanting to help but not knowing how, she searched his face for some helpful clue, some helpful anything.  
  
"Ron, is there anything I can get you? Is there anything I can do?" she asked anxiously, sitting down next to him on the couch and taking his hand. "I don't know what to do to help you."  
  
He looked up at her. She saw the pain in his eyes, he was trying to be strong but she knew how much he just wanted to cry out at the top of his lungs.  
  
"Just...just...just be here," he breathed and took her hand again, squeezing it tightly. She grasped back, hoping for all hope, praying that it was just a minor tweak, not...well; she didn't even want to think what it could be.  
  
Five minutes later a panting Harry ran into the room followed closely by a huffing Madam Pomfrey. She rushed over to Ron and began examining his knee. Muttering lightly she tapped on Ron's knee in a few places. Hermione made to get up but Ron pulled her back down, grabbing at her hand. Each time Madam Pomfrey touched a spot on his knee he gave her hand a quick squeeze.  
  
Finally, after about thirty billion hand grabs Madam Pomfrey finished. She got up and conjured a gurney from thin air. With the help of Hermione and Harry, she eased Ron onto it and began to maneuver a much tired out of the room. Hermione didn't know what to do. She sighed and suddenly felt exhausted. After wishing Harry a good morning she trudged back to her room and fell asleep, brightly shining sunlight and all.  
  
* Ron woke up with a start. He looked around him, his eyes fuzzy. He wasn't in his own room; everything was bright white. And then he remembered. A jolt of pain laced down his knee. He heard a small gasp—he'd twitched slightly with that last jolt—and saw Hermione crouched at the end of his bed.  
  
She looked at him and he froze. Her face was covered in silent tears; they streamed down her cheeks, ending in two large spots on her robes.  
  
Ron reached over and pulled her to him. Her hand gripped his tightly, causing the tears to stream down here cheeks at a faster rate.  
  
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron said, pain rising inside him; pain that cancelled out everything trace he felt in his knee.  
  
"It's all my fault! I mean I just...I feel horrible. I wasn't there when you got hurt, I didn't come to visit you at all," she sobbed and Ron felt a deep jab in his heart, "and it was so stupid, I wanted to come see you, I just felt so bad, but I'd ignored you for two years and I couldn't have everything start up again over that. And then you just showed up on my doorstep and there you where and I was so happy, and it got me thinking, why I went to America, why I left Viktor, why I came back here, Ron...I missed you so much."  
  
Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief. She collapsed into him and her whole body shook.  
  
"Hermione, it's okay, but what are you saying?"  
  
"I don't know. I just don't want to be that far from you ever again," she mumbled. Her hand seized his firmly. He looked up at her big eyes and it all clicked. His free hand maneuvered its way out and wiped the tears from her eyes.  
  
She gazed into his and she moved a little closer to him. Their bodies were inches apart. Ron's breathing—ragged and shallow—caught in his throat and his lips quivered. The space between them drew smaller and smaller. As their lips touched more tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks, but Ron didn't wipe them away this time. 


End file.
